


Take me high; I'll take you higher

by haveyouseenmyuser



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: !!!!!, Canon Compliant but also not really, Harry is a sweet angel, Louis is a confused babu, M/M, Niall Horan & Harry Styles Friendship, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, i still don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haveyouseenmyuser/pseuds/haveyouseenmyuser
Summary: Louis has started wearing a black leather jacket.Harry doesn’t know why, but he really notices it, while he watches back the interview. Louis jokes relentlessly, and all Harry can watch is the way that the collar of Louis' jacket moves against the skin of his neck.That’s a weird thought.So he finishes watching, closes down his computer, and leaves it at that.-Larry fic, vaguely tracking the Where We Are tour, but in a completely haphazard way, and I reserve the right to go forgo all accuracy.





	1. Chapter 1

…

Louis has started wearing a black leather jacket.

Harry doesn’t know why, but he really notices it, while he watches back the interview. Louis jokes relentlessly, and all Harry can watch is the way that the collar of Louis’ jacket moves against the skin of his neck.

That’s a weird thought.

So he finishes watching, closes down his computer, and leaves it at that.

…

Louis wears the jacket for the rest of the day, and later that night too. They stay out for what counts as late for them, but it is still really only 11pm when they call it a night, and return to their hotel room, weaving only slightly.

It is half past ten, when Louis calls Harry out on something. Harry has just finished reaching towards Louis’s collar, adjusting it slightly because it isn’t sitting right somehow, and Louis gives him a look, as he retreats.

“What?”

“Styles - that’s the fourth time you’ve fondled my jacket; buy it a drink first at least.”

Harry laughs as a reflex, and then looks away, hoping the dim lights of this bar will hide his blush.

“It’s a very Zayn jacket though-”

Louis interrupts him with a snort.

“So what you are saying is that i’m not cool enough for this jacket?”

Harry rolls his eyes, because he _ guesses  _ that that is what he meant, but he sure as hell didn’t ask for it verbalized.

“No, just a Zayn jacket; I think maybe my hands are curious, or something.”

Louis laughs at him, and then takes a sip of his drink, which gives Harry plenty of time to regret every choice in his life which led up to him announcing that he had curious hands to his best friend.

“Oh kay, wow, well you keep your inquisitive digits away from me, Haz; lord knows they seem to have a mind of their own.”

Harry blushes harder, and then remembers that this is  _ stupid _ , so instead starts laughing.

…

“Do you like my jacket though?”

They’re in an elevator.

They’re going up.

“Yeah. Definitely. Swag for days… okay what?”

“ _ What _ … who even are you, right now?”

Harry shrugs a couple of times, because he doesn’t even know. Louis starts doing something ridiculous with his shoulders and the collar of his jacket, and Harry is laughing, because  _ what is happening? _

He feels drunker than he is.

Louis pokes at him, grinning.

“Idiot.”

They’re still in an elevator. They’re still going up.

…

Louis likes watching Harry talk at interviews.

He’s such a damn professional, whilst also being utterly endearing. It’s a pretty lethal combination Louis decides, as he takes a second to glance at the audience, fully aware that everyone in the goddamn room is completely in love with Harry, at least for this brief instant.

Harry glances at him, and smiles hesitantly. Louis absorbs it for a moment, before realizing that Harry is indicating that it is probably his turn to speak.

Louis bumbles through his next answer, sternly reminding himself that he doesn’t have to try and be funny all the time, and this answer will not benefit from a joke.

Harry smiles at him anyway, as if he is amused regardless.

…

In the cab back to their hotel, Harry is unusually quiet, but he is preoccupied with his phone and so Louis just assumes that he’s catching up with his emails.

So Louis adjusts the sleeves on his jacket slightly, and tilts his head back on the head rest, hoping for some sleep. He reviews the interview that they have just done, out of habit.

Louis becomes aware that he is smiling with his eyes closed, and tries to rearrange his face into something less unhinged looking.

He thinks that Harry is his person. The one that Louis aims to make laugh, when he is talking. No other laugh is so satisfying.

It’s not a new thought, but it is the first time that it has settled in his brain in such a clear manner.

Harry is his best friend. Of course he wants to make him laugh.

Louis glances over towards Harry abruptly, and Louis could swear that Harry looks back at his phone, a split second later.

“Are we going for drinks later?”

Harry nods a few times, casual.

“Yeeeah… I mean, we don’t have to get up early, do we?”

Louis tilts his head back again, this time without closing his eyes.

“Nope- let’s see if we can stay out until midnight, this time.”

Harry giggles slightly, next to him.

“Speak for yourself, you old man.”

“Hey!”

…

“I look a fucking mess.”

“Don’t be a moron. You always look perfect, you peach.”

Louis realizes it is maybe a notch too sincere from the way that Harry stops scooping his hair up into a messy bun, and glances up at Louis in the reflection. Louis redoubles his focus on styling his hair, because it is a delicate process and he doesn’t need the distraction of Harry’s eyes smiling at him, right now.

Harry goes back to his hair, after a moment, with his mouth quirked up slightly, at the corners.

“Thanks Lou.”

“Whatever. Don’t deny that you have the face that launched a thousand boners.”

It has the desired effect, because Harry makes a noise that is half disgust and half laughter, and rolls his eyes towards Louis.

“Way to go from nice to gross in a split second.”

Louis half bows, in recognition of the compliment, and then elbows Harry in the side.

“Go use the bathroom mirror will you; I need all of this mirror to rescue my hair, and this shitty hotel light isn’t helping.”

Harry shrugs, and moves away. Louis watches, as Harry hesitates next to the bed, and picks up Louis’s jacket from the comforter, where he’d flung it on their return.

“Can I try it on?”

Louis nods, about to agree, but then changes his mind.

“Actually, no, I like that jacket, and anytime you wear anything of mine I always think it looks better on you. So no. You’re banned.”

Harry scoffs at him, but leaves the jacket alone, regardless.

“Oh, whatever Louis…”

“You’re a clothes horse Styles. it’s the shoulders. You’ve got the shoulders of a farm hand.”

“Okay, that veered away from a compliment really quickly.”

Louis shrugs, because yeah, he’s good at that.

…

They’re in an elevator.

They’re still going up.

…

Harry doesn’t know why he kisses Louis, when Louis takes a couple of steps into their hotel room, and then just leans on a wall, looking at him.

But from the way Louis doesn’t seem surprised, but instead just kisses him back, Harry thinks that the gesture isn’t entirely unwelcome.

Harry’s hands find the collar of that jacket again, and Louis laughs into the kiss, after a second.

“I clearly have to be careful wearing this jacket around you, Haz.”

Harry thinks that maybe those drinks were stronger than he thought, because now all he can think about is taking that jacket  _ off  _ Louis.

He doesn’t though, taking a step away and allowing his body to remember that it’s natural state is awkwardness, not kissing people up against walls.

“I don’t know. Sorry. Brain confusion.”

Harry feels Louis observe him for a moment, and then he shrugs, laughing.

“Whatever. Sleep time, huh?”

…

They’ve got a double bed each, which is a relief, Louis thinks, because even he would struggle to be completely chilled out and normal about climbing into bed with someone who just kissed him pretty damn good.

Harry does that sometimes, Louis remembers. Gets a bit tipsy and then seems to translate his affection into kisses. He’s seen him do it with other people, on other nights.

Harry has never kissed Louis before.

There’s a first time for everything, Louis decides, as he reaches up to flick off the final light in the room, as Harry settles into his sheets.

First implies second.

And  _ that’s  _ a weird thought.

Louis doesn’t know how to unthink it, though.

…


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part of a Larry fic. SFW. Lies.

**…**

“So…crushes.”

Zayn blinks at him a few times, and then readjusts his position on the couch, flicking his eyes back to the tv screen, where another episode of ‘Lesbians in Prison’, or whatever it is called, is playing.

“What are we, twelve? Lou, you’ve got to concentrate, otherwise you’ll not get it.”

Louis flaps a hand at the screen, because god knows Zayn has been thorough in his attempts to get him into this show.

“Yeah. I’m loving it Z. Fully focused. But, so, yeah. Crushes… at what point do you think people stop having them?”

Zayn straight up eyeballs him, and Louis takes a casual sip of his drink, trying not to look overly concerned.

“I’m asking for a friend.”

“No you are not… I don’t know Louis - I don’t know if you ever necessarily stop having them. They’re just - what people do. When they meet someone new or whatever. And then they either cool off or crank up. Why - who’s floating your boat all of a sudden? Have you even met anyone new? I thought we’d signed a solemn vow of reclusiveness?”

Louis snorts at him, and pushes a hand through his hair.

“Speak for yourself… but what if it isn’t a new person, exactly? But, you know, a new way of looking at an old person?”

Zayn frowns at him, and then grins slyly, poking at Louis with his foot.

“Is this your way of telling me you have finally got the hots for me? Because about time, Lou…”

Louis laughs, and then pulls a face of extreme disgust.

“Okay, Zayn, I’m just going to say that your stinky feet are within four foot of my nose, and that distance is definitely breaching the court order I had taken out against them-”

“My feet do not smell!”

…

A new way of looking at an old person…

Harry is definitely an old person, to Louis. He’s a England friend, whereas most of the people Louis speaks to now are more recent, LA friends.

And Harry has always been that person who Louis saved his best jokes for, who laughed harder than anyone else, who made Louis hilarious in interviews, whereas without Harry then Louis would have just been crazy.

All of that is old.

What is new is the sudden, vivid memory of the exact texture and pressure of Harry’s lips, and the way his mouth seemed to know what to do with simple accuracy, when it moved against Louis’s skin.

And so of course Louis thinks about it the next day, and the next, because it was odd and slightly startling and made the following morning pretty awkward. Until they both caught a giggle-fit, just before lunch and all the tension eased away, without the kiss ever having to be discussed.

It’s probably for the best, that it was never discussed. Louis can’t even begin to imagine how that conversation would have gone.

_ So, we made out for a bit and I didn’t hate - how about that? Let’s look into that a bit and maybe repeat it I don’t know we need to gather data somehow although if you think that’s weird then obviously not haha I’m an adult. _

Thank god that conversation didn’t happen, on reflection.

Louis thinks about Harry a great deal - it is just the nature of it; their lives are tangled up in complex, overlapping knots.

Thinking about kissing him is new, but Louis will take it; he’s pretty good at compartmentalising.

He’s too busy, for a crush.

…

Things continue for a while.

It is all the same, whilst being entirely different.

All the cards thrown up in the air, and then carefully re-organised into a neat deck - the prior chaos neatly hidden, unless you check the interior order, and see the echoes of the mess that once was.

Harry wonders whether he should say something. But it seems Louis is perfectly content with saying nothing, so that’s that, Harry thinks. At least everyone knows where they stand.

He’s an adult, he reminds himself firmly, to try and prevent himself from falling asleep thinking about Louis, for the fifth time that week.

…

Niall is usually a welcome break, but Harry can’t help the way that Louis sneaks into their conversation, over salad and a burger, at their usual place.

Niall eats like he hasn’t eaten in about a month, but Harry picks, and picks, at his fries, and the sesame seeds on top of his bun, while he tries to decide how to broach the topic.

Just get on with it, Harry thinks.

“Is it weird to find Louis attractive?”

Niall squints quickly at him, shrugs, and then goes back to his burger.

“Nah - think that is an affliction known as having vision… everyone thinks Louis is attractive. Find me someone who doesn’t think he is beautiful, and I will show you a liar.”

Harry wrinkles his nose, and looks back at his plate, because Niall’s skimmed around the issue with the delicacy of a ballerina, and now Harry has to decide whether to press the point, or just accept the misunderstanding.

“No, but, um- thinking someone is beautiful is different from being attracted to someone, no?”

Niall takes a couple of chews on his mouthful, and then swallows, before slurping at his drink in a move that looks designed to buy time.

“You said ‘finding attractive’, before. So now you are ‘attracted to’ Louis? Am I going to need some kind of map for this conversation?”

Harry flaps a hand.

“Same thing.”

“No, not really… but okay. So what are you asking me - is it weird? Is that what you are asking me? Because still no, but- I have follow up questions.”

Harry nods a few times, probably looking like one of those bobble heads, because he’s not answering anything, but rather just moving the conversation along. Niall observes him for a moment, and then shrugs, smiling quietly.

“Or I can just pretend this conversation never happened?”

Harry looks down at his plate.

“No, I just… I think I just wanted to say it to someone. I don’t think I want to discuss it. My head- it’s all a bit sudden and weird, and I just wanted to say it outloud.”

Niall nudges at Harry’s foot with his own underneath the table, and when Harry looks up Niall is hiding a weird smile.

“You should speak to him - maybe he feels the same way.”

Harry snorts at him, and then rolls his eyes, grinning.

“You spend too long on the internet, Niall.”

“Whatever, dude. Eat your food, will you - I want a dessert.”

…

Something about Niall’s manner for the rest of the day has Harry turning the conversation over in his mind restlessly, that night. But in the end Harry puts it down to Niall being an ass, because that’s what he does.

The tour is starting soon. They’re meant to be doing things in a professional manner, because they are professionals, and their professional careers are taking off, and all of this would be a great deal easier if he didn’t have the brain of a thirteen year old.

Harry sighs restlessly, and turns over in his bed, fluffing up his pillow as if it is the pillow’s fault that he can’t sleep.

…

It’s kind of stupid, how pretty Harry looks when he is dozing.

Stupid, and downright offensive, and pretty. Goddamn pretty.

Harry’s head lolls forward a couple of times, but he rights himself a split second later. Louis hides a smile, and looks out of the window, where the clouds look far beneath them and their responsibilities even further.

On the third time Harry starts a little when he wakes, and blinks blearily at Louis, who chucks at his chin once, on impulse.

“You know that you are allowed to sleep on the plane, huh? Your concentration doesn’t keep it in the air.”

Harry smiles tiredly at him, and mumbles “Yes”, in a way completely innocuous but has Louis’s heart clenching a little bit, regardless. Harry shifts about in his seat a little bit, as though there is a hidden button which will turn it into a bed. He glances at Louis, and says “I just can’t get comfy.”

Louis nods, because of course he can’t, this seat feels like it is trying to correct a spine deformity that he doesn’t have. On impulse, he pats at his shoulder, and Harry blinks softly at him.

“You sure?”

Louis shrugs, saying “Well I can’t be any more uncomfortable, and I need to write, so… Might as well have your giant skull crushing me into my seat as well.”

Harry clearly stops listening about half way through Louis’s sentence, because he’s lifting up the armrest and scooting closer, and resting his head on Louis’s shoulder and curling his knees up underneath him. Louis can’t do much beyond sit still, and Harry hums out a sigh of contentment after a moment. Louis is reminded of a cat, absurdly, chasing body heat.

And he’s prone to a little weakness too. So he presses a kiss once, to Harry’s head, and breathes in a citrus shampoo for a moment.

“Sleep. You work too hard.”

Harry shifts, and wiggles slightly, and murmurs “s’nice”, in a way that makes Louis think that he is already half asleep.

And there’s not much he can do, beyond look out the window again, and agree silently, because yes, this is nice.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it's been a while. How are you all? Good.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This is a Larry fic. All lies.  
> Enjoy :)  
> …
> 
> (Also i know they obviously didn't tour in Alaska but just imagine Harry and Louis all cold and wrapped in layers)

…

Alaska is as cool as fuck. Literally, and metaphorically, and any which way you care to interpret it.

Harry feels like he is maybe in a sleep deprived hallucinatory state, for much of the trip, only really waking up when the camera is on or they have to perform or the terror really peaks.

(Glaciers are fun. Flying down from the mountains; not so much.)

They’re busy, and Harry loves busy, but at the end of the third day, when he pretty much just falls asleep into his Pad Thai in Louis’ hotel room, his last waking thought is  _ get it together, Styles _ .

…

He wakes with a start, and a swell of panic, because the amount of daylight in the room seems to imply that he must have slept through his alarm.

The bedsheets are unfamiliarly harsh against his skin, when Harry sits up, looking around for his phone. It’s on the bedside table, next to Louis’ phone. And Louis is just across the gap, in the other hotel bed.

Harry tries to still his movements, as he remembers where he is, and how sunlight works in Alaska. But it is too late, because Louis stirs, and blinks at him, before rubbing at his eyes.

“Mmmmph… Harry we’re fine - don’t panic.”

Harry reaches for his phone anyway, and checks the screen. It is 4.27am.

“Ahh, shit… sorry I woke you.”

Louis shrugs with his one visible shoulder, and lifts himself up momentarily, fluffing up his pillow and tucking his arm underneath it, observing Harry.

Harry is shy, and scoots lower underneath the comforter.

“You let me fall asleep here… you should have sent me back to my room.”

Louis wrinkles his nose, and then clears his throat.

“You were pretty much dead to the world - I figured that the only way I was getting you to your room was by dragging you by the foot. Be grateful that I put you in the bed.”

Harry smiles, but doesn’t laugh, because the moment feels too soft for laughter.

“Thanks.”

Louis rolls onto his back, and the lack of eye contact means that Harry can observe him some more, in the half light.

“You work too hard.”

Harry can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth, because this has been Louis’ recent theme, and Harry sort of likes the notion of Louis looking out for him.

“You keep saying that.”

“You keep doing it.”

“You ain’t my real dad.”

Louis laughs at that, glancing over at Harry and smiling.

“Don’t make jokes - I’m serious. If I lose this gig because you fall asleep at a show then this friendship is over.”

Harry shifts on the mattress, so that he can flip Louis off with both hands, and then collapses back onto the sheets. He groans after a moment.

“It’s too bright to sleep. Fuck you, entire state of Alaska.”

“Here’s an interesting medical fact - closing your eyes actually helps things seem less bright.”

“ _ God _ \- I wish you had dragged me by the foot to my room.”

“Please don’t pretend that you don’t love it.”

Harry rolls his eyes in a final protest, and takes the spare pillow next to him, hiding his head underneath it. It does nothing to block out Louis’ snort of amusement.

But it does make it easier to pretend that he doesn’t love it.

…

They do some interviews, for some local press, on their final day. With Zayn, Niall and Liam in one room, and Harry and Louis in another. Their production manager claims they are to be released when the new album comes out. All Louis knows is that nothing neutralizes his ability to be funny more than a lady of a certain age from traditional media, who peers at them over her notepad and pronounces the words  _ One Direction  _ as though he has never said it before. She asks them hard hitting questions like “how do you like Alaska?” and “how do you feel about performing to this many people?”

Louis only just restrains from rolling his eyes, at that particular question, because why is that always everyone’s question? 

Harry is better at hiding his apathy towards tedious questions though, and starts brightly on his usual answer, as though he’s never been asked it before. Louis sits back, and takes a sip of his coffee, grateful for the reprieve. Harry talks about mentally identifying the person in his life that he most wants to make happy, and pretending he’s singing towards them. Louis watches Harry’s fingers, as they flex in the air while he tries to explain himself.

The interviewer looks at him, expectantly, and Louis blinks a couple of times, trying to snap out of his daze.

“Oh. Me? I find that alcohol usually does the trick.”

The lady (Gloria, Louis tries to remember) smiles politely, even though Louis is only about one tenth joking, and then turns back to Harry.

“And so who is your person - the one who you want to make happy?”

Louis looks away, expecting Harry to shut this down, because this sounds very close to a relationship question, and there is no way in hell that Harry will be giving that a straight answer, even if he has nothing to confirm or deny, on that front.

“Oh… Louis. Definitely Louis. He’s the funniest person I have ever met.”

Louis is startled, and probably gives Harry a look akin to a rabbit caught in the headlights, from the way that Harry snorts at him.

“If you are trying to say that I am funny looking then you will be doing the rest of this tour yourself.”

Harry rolls his eyes away from Louis, grinning, even as Gloria the newshound focuses on Louis.

“And yourself? Who’s the funniest person you know?”

Louis shrugs a couple of times, but he sees no point in avoiding the truth.

“Definitely this boy here. He cracks me up, even if I don’t fully know what he is laughing at.”

Gloria nods, satisfied, as Harry catches his eye again, and grins sheepishly. Louis feels like he is moments away from blushing, which is damn stupid, so he looks down at his hands, searching for something to say.

“Niall’s going to be  _ pissed _ .”

Harry laughs abruptly, and then puts his hand over his mouth to stifle the giggles, as Gloria the pen glances over towards them, gives a polite smile of incomprehension, and goes back to her notes.

…

That night, they go for drinks with the rest of the boys, in order to celebrate completing the first state of the tour. Harry thinks that maybe three days doesn’t  _ quite _ merit a celebration, but he isn’t going to turn down a drink.

The hotel bar serves its purpose, which is good because it means that they don’t have to go out into the weird,  _ still looks like daylight _ , night. That way Harry can  _ almost  _ pretend that he’s having an early night instead.

They’re catching a red-eye flight, in a couple of hours, and Harry should really go up to his room and get some sleep, because he’s notorious for not being able to sleep easily on the plane. But he doesn’t, because why do the sensible thing when the fun thing is right in front of him?

Louis seems to read his mind, and shrugs at him, sliding the second drink of the evening towards him.

“Never-mind - California soon, I’m sure that’ll be nice and restful.”

Harry laughs despite himself, and takes a sip of the liquid, after chasing the straw with the tip of his tongue for a moment.

“I figure that the most restful sort of sleep probably comes after I collapse from exhaustion.”

Louis nods wisely, rolling his body slightly to the beat of the music.

“You should be a health guru.”

Harry nods, and then finds himself just watching Louis for a moment, because Louis is familiar and everything else here is strange. Louis catches his eye, and his smile flickers, before painting another grin wide, and rolling his body, more deliberately this time.

Harry blushes, abruptly, and then feels like an  _ idiot _ , because Louis is clearly just joking, and he doesn’t need to behave like an adolescent who has just been caught looking.

Niall, Louis and Zayn come to join them, and Harry plunges into a slightly frantic feeling conversation, about twitter and macaroons and glaciers and anything he can name that isn’t Louis, and the way he just looked at Harry.

…

Liam eventually glances at his watch, and then gestures upwards.

“You guys should go and get your cases - taxi to the airport will be here in twenty minutes.”

Louis is feeling a little buzzed, and so he is grateful that Liam has put himself in charge. He nods his agreement, and then touches Harry at the elbow, encouraging him out of his seat.

“Come on Curly - time to get our bags.”

The elevator has four walls, and Louis feels a lot safer in here, with Harry, than he usually does in small, confined spaces. Harry leans back against the mirrored wall, as Louis identifies the correct button.

Harry is smiling at him, that silly smile that he does when the drinks have been flowing for a couple of hours.

“I might have to fall asleep on top of you again. During the flight.”

Louis shrugs, trying to say  _ that would be fine _ and not cross the boundary into  _ I’d actually quite like that - you never seem to be close enough to me, these days. _

The elevator continues smoothly upwards, as Harry clears his throat, sounding nervous.

“I’m so glad I’m doing this with you Lou- I can’t imagine doing it with anyone else.”

There is only about two floors of upwards travel time left, which is why Louis feels safe to cross the gap between him and Harry, and kiss him abruptly.

Harry doesn’t seem surprised, which is weird because Louis sure as hell  _ is  _ surprised. Harry just kisses him back, hands going up to the sides of Louis’ face and fingertips gingerly stroking along his jaw line.

Louis doesn’t mean to press forward, but his body has other ideas, clearly intending to act upon the thought that Harry is never close enough. Harry breathes in heavily through his nose, as if the gesture isn’t unwelcome in the slightest.

The doors shudder open, and Louis removes himself from Harry reluctantly, making sure he has a grin on his face just incase he needs this to be a joke.

Harry looks like he is trying to figure out the same thing as well, and smiles hesitantly.

“So… that keeps happening.”

Louis shrugs, motioning out towards the corridor.

“But this time I did it to you - we’re evens.”

Harry bites his lip, and then follows Louis’ lead, out along the corridor to their adjacent rooms.

“I’d have more to say about that if we weren’t going to be late.”

Louis grins at him, whilst fumbling for his keycard at his doorway.

“Well thank god for tight schedules.”

Harry rolls his eyes, and disappears into his own room without saying a word. Which is a good thing, Louis decides. He doesn’t want to have a conversation; not really.

He just wants to kiss Harry some more.

…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story seems to keep happening


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry. Lies. SFW.

**…**

LA with his four best friends is exactly as it should be;  _ stressful party time _ with his four best friends.

Niall is pretty glad that he has a quieter than normal summer planned. There is an ache in his bones which he associates with a really long term kind of tiredness, and recharging the batteries would probably be a good idea. Resting doesn’t come naturally to Niall, but Liam had insisted.

“Niall… We’ve been touring for the last two summers. The summer before that you had just finished getting settled in London. Just… take a bit of time, after this tour, huh? You can still tweet fans and stuff, just less of everything else.”

Niall had been all ready to protest, but they’d died on his lips when Liam had given him  _ that  _ look, and Niall had remembered that compromise was the recipe to a successful everything.

He picks up his mugs, and moves over to the seating area that his and  Liam’s hotel room came equipped with; a couch and a couple of faded armchairs.

“Why aren’t you and Harry sharing a room, by the way? You usually do?”

Louis accepts the coffee with a smile, and then looks away, taking in the view out of the window next to him.

“Oh, no real reason. We just figured that we are going to be spending a  _ lot _ of time with each other this summer; nothing wrong with maybe seeking out a little distance, when it is available.”

Niall shrugs, because he figured that would be the answer, and takes a sip of too hot coffee.

“Good idea - we don’t want you two to have your first ever argument while in the middle of a concert. Could be a disaster.”

Niall laughs afterwards, because the very notion of Harry and Louis falling out is impossible to imagine. Louis mumbles something that sounds like an agreement, and inspects his nails.

“Exactly. There’s nothing wrong with a little head space. We don’t want Harry to start getting bored of my jokes, or whatever.”

“Unlikely Louis; jeez. I have  _ never  _ heard Harry laugh like he laughs at your jokes.”

Louis looks like he starts blushing, but Niall decides that it must be the light, because Louis is hardwired to accept compliments easily. He checks his phone, trying to gauge how long they’ve got, before the madness starts again.

“Five minutes until the screaming starts again.”

Louis grunts, and closes his eyes.

“That gives me time for a four minute nap.”

…

It passes in a blur.

Harry wonders whether everything in his life is going to pass in a blur from now on in. Nothing about concerts feel real, and it makes the entire process slip by easily. Harry talks on stage, meets what feels like a small country’s worth of people, and sings, and sings, and sings…

It’s best to just pretend that the entire weekend is spent on camera, even if the lens can’t be seen. Harry hopes that everyone knows that he is on his best, corporate sponsor, behavior, because otherwise he must be coming across as some kind of perky chipmunk who is hardwired to say  _ buy our album  _ every two minutes.

He only really sees Louis when they are on stage together, or doing something official together. Other than that, the weekend is spent hanging out and catching up with the band and their team, because lord knows catching up with Niall, Louis, Liam and Zayn is never necessary. Harry is well aware of how lucky he is be so close to his best friends.

Liam, Zayn and Niall are his best friends. Louis is his other best friend. The fact that they’ve now kissed twice is entirely irrelevant.

Crushes is a word synonymous with teenagers and the confused, so Harry makes a concerted effort to not describe the situation as such.

He’s feeling attracted to Louis. It isn’t entirely un-reciprocated, judging from the way Louis initiated the most recent kiss.

What does that mean?

(He feels like Zayn, constantly on the look out for some kind of meaning to everything, rather than just accepting that life is a bunch of stuff, all happening together.)

Harry hasn’t got the time in his schedule to process this. Processing time is a luxury afforded to only those with nothing better to do. So he’ll just have to keep pushing forward, and if the Louis thing keeps happening then he guesses he just be there for the ride, collecting all of the emotions together and sorting them in a box, on a high mental shelf somewhere, until everything just slows down a bit.

The only thing that Harry is sure of, is that Louis isn’t worrying himself into pointless corners about the kisses. Louis is always too sure of the truth to consider the what ifs.

…

The next stop on the crazy train is Louisville.

They’re getting separate flights in, which is a good thing because Louis doesn’t know if he’ll be able to deal with another three hours of Harry falling asleep on top of him, mumbling and inching closer into his sweatshirt for comfort.

Well. He probably would be able to deal with it. Really well. Probably too well. And it isn’t a problem, exactly, but it is a distraction, right now. Louis is supposed to be fully focused on touring America as a professional idiot.

Ahh, whatever. These things happen.

He sends a message to Harry, the night before, in an attempt to air out any weirdness before they have to start filming again.

_ Haz. Lou here. Are we good? _

_ You know that I have your number Louis; you don’t need to tell me who you are? _

Louis rolls his eyes a little, before smiling at the phone screen, just because.

_ I was trying to inject a light-hearted tone into what could otherwise be a serious question, but you sure made that jump the tracks. _

Harry looks like he is typing for a long time, longer than his replying message actually seems to merit.

_ Oh, okay. Yeah I think we are good? Are we good? _

Groaning, because Louis can’t see any way to reveal the truth without just straight up revealing the truth, he sets to typing again.

_ Yeah, I’d say we are good. Although, spoiler alert, seems I’m kind of into you, a bit, all of a sudden. I like your face. Just going for full disclosure before the arrivals gate. _

There’s another long pause, in which Louis tosses a couple more items of clothing at random back into his case, hoping that an act of God will result in them all being neatly folded when it comes to unpacking.

_ I feel objectified. (I am okay with it) _

God, Harry is such an  _ idiot. _

_ Jeez sorry; I like your dumb brain too. _

Louis laughs the second after he sends it, whilst feeling that certain kind of excited terror he thought he’d left behind at high school.

_ Your brain is dumber. But yeah, that too. Me too. _

Louis thinks about sending back something jokey, about Harry’s masterful way with words and how the hell he writes songs, but decides to steer things towards the serious, because otherwise they could just keep going like this for hours and never  _ actually say anything _ .

_ So… we should maybe stay slightly more sober around each other, huh? So that we don’t accidentally make out on camera - great for views, but maybe not so great for our reputations of extreme professionalism. _

There’s a much shorter wait, as if Harry had already considered how to phrase his response.

_ I don’t exactly need alcohol in me to want to kiss you Lou. _

It’s direct enough to make Louis’s heart squeeze oddly.

_ Yeah - me neither. Let’s just see how we go, huh? Nice and slow. And don’t forget to use your words, Haz. _

After a moment, Harry sends back a series of turd emojis, and Louis laughs, typing his reply quickly.

_ Eat a dick, Styles. _

The reply is instant.

_ Oh the irony. _

Louis cracks up harder, before tossing his phone away, to prevent him saying something stupid.

Probably too late. Luckily, Harry gets it. Harry always gets it.

…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS STILL HAPPENING. I KNOW CRAZY RIGHT? MAYBE I'M JUST WRITING THIS BECAUSE I THINK I CAN'T. MAYBE I'M JUST WRITING IT TO TEST YOUR LOYALTY TO MY WORDS.


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry. SFW. All lies.   
> Onwards!
> 
> ..

The transition from ‘Harry Styles - best friend of Louis Tomlinson’, to ‘Harry Styles - best friend and maybe future kisser of Louis Tomlinson’ comes surprisingly easy.

The relief is that apparently neither of them act any differently, now that the mutual attraction has been aired. Sure, the very first encounter after that conversation is a bit awkward, but that is only because Harry is dumb enough to miss his flight, which means that he has to greet Louis on camera, whilst looking like he’s just gone twenty rounds with a bear.

He bumbles through it, and he can tell that thankfully Louis has been on camera for at least thirty minutes, because he’s got his screen voice on and his professional persona turned up high.

When the cameras are put away, and the crew are preoccupied with getting their equipment into their hired people carriers,  Louis reaches over and squeezes at Harry’s shoulder, once.

“You okay?”

Harry smiles gratefully, and nods.

“Yeah… Hi.”

Louis smiles back.

“Hi- nice to see you.”

Harry gestures down at himself, laughing at the ridiculousness of everything.

“Thought I’d make an effort.”

“Yeah sure, your perfect bone structure is looking downright skanky.”

Harry blushes, to the very tips of his ears, because even though he is used to Louis’ backwards way with compliments, he’s not used to the sensations of knowing that Louis likes him, too.

“Shut up… take me to a shower, immediately.”

Louis laughs at him, even as Harry realizes a split second too late what that sounds like, and then murmurs ‘pretty sure that just escalated quicker than either of us had planned for, Haz.’

Harry rolls his eyes at Louis, although the effect is probably limited due to the still lingering blush on his cheeks, and Louis smiles quietly, before opening the passenger door, gesturing at Harry to get in.

“Come on; we’ve got a state to experience.”

…

It’s damn stupid. But also damn easy.

Louis and Harry romp around the stadium in Louisville with the greatest of professionalism, or what counts as professionalism for them; jokes and hats and inarticulate noises when confronted with a baby. Louis enjoys confounding the surrounding public, and making people laugh when they didn’t think they were going to. And because Harry is always there, and they crack each other up naturally, it doesn’t matter if no-one else gets it. It’s still a good time.

Every sense is tuned one notch higher than normal, however, and when the cameras point in a different direction all Louis can really focus on is Harry, and how Harry isn’t focusing on Louis at all, but in a way that seems really considered and thought through. And so of course it translates into a fun game of ‘get Harry’s attention’, in Louis’ mind, and he isn’t at all concerned if the crowd pick up on how intently Louis is looking at Harry, because the boy is too special to be of this earth. Besides, Louis’ pretty sure that the whole crowd are nursing crushes as well. It would be an indicator of terrible taste to not be.

It’s just that Louis knows he’s allowed to. Because occasionally, with a small sigh of distress and a shy smile, Harry will look back at him, and mouth  _ stop _ . And Louis will smirk, and mouth  _ no _ , at which point Harry’s smile will grow even wider before he busies himself talking to someone in the crowd, whilst Louis wonders how long he has been feeling this way about Harry and when that transition even started happening.

No point worrying about it. Just be in the moment.

So when the rest of the boys suggest extended drinks on the final night in Louisville, Louis catches Harry’s eye, reads his mind, and then shakes his head.

“Nah, sorry guys; another time? Harry and I have got some shit to sort a project, we’d anticipated using tonight as a planning meeting.”

They’d not discussed anything of the sort, but Harry doesn’t protest, instead nodding and taking a final gulp of his drink.

“Yeah; we’ll see you tomorrow?”

After a few minutes of politeness, they’re in an elevator.

They’re going up.

Harry catches Louis’ eye.

“At least now I don’t have to pretend I’m not hoping that your resolve will break, and you’ll accidentally kiss me.”

Louis rolls his eyes, laughing, because it is very easy to be casual, all of a sudden.

“Oh please - like there has been anything accidental about any of this, Haz.”

Harry looks down at his feet, like he is a child that has been caught pinching candy. Louis smiles fondly at the sight, and then steps out of the elevator first, when the door slides open. Harry follows him out, clearing his throat.

“Come to my room; we’ll watch bad t.v. shows and order room service.”

Louis nods, because that sounds really good.

…

The view out of Harry’s room is refreshingly mundane, and Harry is relieved to not have to feign interest in some kind amazing view again.

He turns to look at Louis, who is standing with one hand on his hip, frowning as he flicks through the channels with the remote.

“Do you think that maybe we have a limit, on how much unusual we as humans can experience in a short space of time, before you can’t take in anymore, and everything just blurs into the mundane?”

Louis raises his eyebrows once, and nods, before smiling at him.

“Sure, sounds plausible. I’m ready for a hell of a lot of normal, right now - and I think I’ve only seen this rerun of Gogglebox seven times. How does that strike you?”

Harry nods, because predictable sounds good.

They watch without saying anything important other than their usual laughter filled running commentary, with Louis at one end of the faded couch and Harry curled up at the other end, sleepy but not tired, exactly.

The beers come, and the beers go, and Harry is warm with it, happy to not have to be performing right now.

Harry can feel Louis watching him, now and then, and when Harry turns his head to look at him, Louis doesn’t look away immediately. Instead he just smiles slowly, and turns back to the screen after a moment of shared eye contact, leaving Harry studying his profile, and wondering when normal started feeling this exciting.

It’s just Louis.

But then it really isn’t somehow. It’s Louis  _ plus  _ a whole bucket load of feelings to do with maybe crawling down the couch and distracting Louis from the tv in a very serious way.

Louis looks at him again, and laughs slightly, as if he is reading Harry’s mind.

“You look exhausted.”

Harry smiles at him, and then tips his head back onto the couch, grunting in agreement, because maybe his current state isn’t one to be making any telling moves on Louis.

“So do you.”

Louis pokes at him with a foot, and then vogues half heartedly.

“I know; sexy right?”

Harry giggles, and then sighs, looking over at Louis.

“We are too old for these types of shit and shenanigans.”

He doesn’t really know what he is referring to, really, but Louis nods once in agreement, anyway. He then stands up, stretching himself out.

“Damn right - all this relentless  _ experiencing  _ is exhausting. I’m going to go pass out on my bed - this has been a wild time.”

Harry sits up a bit, because his impulse is to get up, but he can hardly walk Louis to his hotel door without looking like an idiot. So he ends up just perched on the edge of the couch, looking up at Louis, and clearly, there was no line of action that he could have taken which  _ didn’t  _ result in him looking like an idiot.

Louis smiles down at him for a moment, as if giving Harry space to do something if he wants to, and then rolls his eyes, bending down quickly. Before Harry can really register what is happening, Harry is being kissed gently on the mouth, with a kiss which is a bit more than a peck, but only just. Harry hums his approval, and when Louis kisses him again, and rubs a vague thumb along his cheekbone, Harry reaches up and wraps his hand around Louis’ wrist, just trying to communicate his desire to keep Louis there.

Louis kisses him once more, with some finality, and straightens up again.

“Okay, I am leaving now.”

“Louis-”

“I was just… I don’t know. I wanted to kiss you, and I wanted kissing you to feel slightly less scary. So; there. Accept the kiss.”

Harry snorts, because the determination on Louis’ face is enough to make him laugh, and then nods seriously.

“Thank you for the kiss. Great job on normalising it.”

Louis strokes some of Harry’s hair out of his eyes, and nods sarcastically.

“Yeah, I think that was a complete success.”

Harry stands abruptly, and steps into Louis’ space, kissing him without thinking. Louis takes a step back in surprise, but then lets his hands fall to Harry’s hips, and Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ neck. It isn’t close enough, and when Louis pulls Harry towards him, all Harry can do is comply, opening his mouth and letting his tongue trace along Louis’ lips.

They kiss for a long moment, and then Louis pulls away.

“Okay, okay; point taken. Good job. I am going to go now, otherwise I’m going to stay, and I think that isn’t the best plan, considering our schedule, tomorrow.”

Harry is on the verge of saying  _ fuck the schedule _ , but common sense is calling, and sleep is tugging at him.

“Yeah… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Louis tips his head, as if to say  _ obviously _ , and disentangles himself from Harry.

“Can we do… something similar tomorrow night, or something? Just you and me things? I feel like I don’t see you, when everyone else is there too.”

Harry nods a couple of times, because that sounds really good.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Louis smiles at him, and then heads to the door, murmuring “bye beautiful” just before he closes it behind him.

Harry sits on the edge of his bed, and then collapses back onto it, exhausted but also giddy with emotions.

He  _ wants _ kissing Louis to be a normal part of his existence. But this exciting, nerve-wracking, phase is pretty fun too.

…


	6. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry. All lies. SFW. Thanks for reading!

…

They go for coffee, early the next morning.

It is low key, and only lasts for half an hour, before the rest of the boys appear in the hotel lobby. There is a place just opposite their hotel, where the wifi signal is non existent but the coffee is strong and the woman serving is wearing a terrible hat with apparently no sense of irony. Music from a different decade and a different continent plays in the background. Harry really likes it.

Harry gets a text message from Louis, just after he’s emerged from the shower, inviting him down.

_ I’m in the cafe just across the street, if you want to join? The server is called Kathy and I’m concerned that she is sizing me up for husband material. _

Harry snorts, and rushes through his routine slightly quicker than normal, tying his hair up and adding a bandana for full effect.

Louis smiles at Harry when he sees him.

“Good morning. I took the liberty of ordering you a latte.”

Harry nods gratefully, sliding into the seat opposite.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t come?”

“Drank it, cursed your ass, and eloped with Kathy over there…  _ you up for that Kathy _ ?”

Kathy is as wide as she is tall, and at least sixty. She can’t have heard the first half of Louis' sentence, but gives an enthusiastic thumbs up, never once taking her eye from the coffee she’s pouring.

“That’s right sweetcheeks!”

Louis laughs at her, and then raises his eyebrows at Harry. “Sweetcheeks - we’ll be married by autumn Harry, I’m telling you.”

Harry giggles at him, and then takes a sip of his coffee, smiling fondly. “I’ll buy a hat.”

Louis rolls his eyes, before saying half to himself “Oh okay, just assume that you’ll be invited - rude.”

Harry laughs again, and then rests his chin on his hand, observing Louis for a moment. Louis blushes, and then looks away over Harry’s shoulder, murmuring “You laugh too easily Styles.”

“Oh please; you love an easy audience.”

Louis flaps a hand, looking ready to dismiss the accusation, but when Harry nudges a foot over towards Louis' ankle, tapping once before coming to rest, he seems to give up.

“Okay, yeah - you got me.”

Harry smirks, toying with his teaspoon with first date fingers.

“But Kathy has got first dibs on you -  _ that right Kathy? _ ”

“I’ll take on both you boys, don’t you worry!”

Harry snorts, as Louis mumbles “Sister Wives…” before cracking up with laughter.

It’s a good way to start, Harry thinks.

…

Louisville becomes Texas easily.

Travelling is done more on land than in the air, for reasons to do with scheduling and cost and inconvenient flight times. Louis is grateful, because he doesn’t enjoy the process of flying much at all, whereas all he is required to do while in their bus is get in and not get travel sick.

He thanks god, or whatever is out there, for instagram, and the ability to digitally record moments, because too much is happening and Louis knows that he would  _ never _ be able to remember all of this in a million years. Much of the time in their people carrier is spent reviewing the photos and footage that they just caught on their phones.

The other, not exactly welcome but probably for the best, aspect of the group transport is that there is less privacy. When they fly together Louis knows that both him and Harry tend to forget that there are at least a hundred other people in very close proximity to them. It usually just results in them having a couple of drinks and cracking inappropriate jokes at a volume slightly too loud. At the moment though…

Louis looks over at Harry, next to him. Predictably, he’s asleep, phone discarded on his lap, probably mid scroll of tumblr, because they both have a problem and are coming close to requiring some kind of intervention.

Less predictably, Harry’s hand has come to rest next to Louis' thigh, not exactly touching it, but just…  _ there _ . Louis smiles at the sight, and wonders about personal space and the way Harry carries around his own rules about it in his head.

Louis lips feel like they’ve been crying out, ever since the last time they kissed Harry. Which they haven’t in forty eight hours, because alone time is hard to come by and it turns out that going on tour also means late night creative meetings with the stage director, who apparently wants slightly more control than just shoving the boys out and letting them go.

He doesn’t miss Harry, exactly, because he is just here and is as steady a presence in Louis' life as the sky right now, but he does miss being alone with Harry.

Nobody in the van seems to be paying them much attention; everyone is either asleep, or focused on their phones.

Louis lets his hand drift over to Harry’s, and he runs gentle fingers over the back of Harry’s hand. Harry breathes in after a second, and then tilts his head towards Louis, blinking his eyes open and smiling. Louis smiles back, and mouths  _ hey sleepy _ . Harry raises his eyebrows, as if to say  _ oh yeah _ , and then rearranges his hand, turning it so that he can link his fingers with Louis' and squeezes, bringing their palms together for a brief moment.

If they were alone, Louis would kiss him.

They aren’t alone though, so Louis just squeezes back, and reflects on how lucky he is. Harry smiles once more, releases Louis' hand, and tips his head back again, murmuring “I’d rest my head on your shoulder, but I want to actually be able to move my neck this afternoon, so…”

Louis stifles a laugh, and looks away out of the window, to avoid temptation.

“Go to sleep Haz.”

“Already dreaming, Lou.”

…

The concert in Texas turns out to be pretty close to an anxiety dream that Harry had one time.

He gets through it, by laughing a lot and letting Louis be the only real thing that he looks at. And Louis is comfortable enough for the both of them, and so Harry can ride on the crest of his wave.

Afterwards, when the crew are packing up, and he and Louis are catching their breath and deliberately not catching each others eye because whatever that was, it sure as hell felt like a near miss, Niall comes back over to them. Louis rests his drink on the bar, and greets him cheerily.

“Let us buy you a drink Niall?”

Niall laughs at them, and then taps his watch.

“Nah, thank you. I’m meeting that model Gigi’s been trying to set me up with tonight, so that should be a handful.”

Harry smiles at the boy, and then presses a hand to his own chest.

“But nothing compared to us, right?”

Niall waggles his head a bit, and says “whatever you need to believe, follow” as Louis snorts and then tries to clamp down on the giggles, to no avail. Niall winks at Harry as if to say  _ only joking _ .

“Anyway, just wanted to wish you luck with whatever you got going on here…”

Niall’s hand flaps between them, and Harry blushes, even as Louis purses his lips, glancing at Harry as if to assess his reaction.

“There’s nothing going on here…”

Niall nods, and says “not officially, huh?”

Harry lets himself take the lead, because he’s not that natural a follower, not really.

“No, not officially.”

Louis catches his eye, and all Harry can really think about is the way that the best parts of One Thing was when Louis led his movements, and all Harry had to do was look at Louis and let his body act on instinct. Louis clears his throat, and there is a smile playing around his lips now.

“No, exactly that. We’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself.”

Niall laughs, nodding his agreement, and then points at both of them as he backs away.

“You boys are cute - enjoy tonight. See you later.”

Harry gives a cheery thumbs up and then waves. Louis turns back to him, with a smile.

“Come for a drink with me, tomorrow night? We’ll escape the hotel, go practice these moves, somewhere with no cameras.”

It’s enough to make the smile on Louis' face widen, which Harry will take as a strong second place. Louis finishes his drink, placing it back on the bar with smirk

“Sounds good. Now come on - we can’t mess with the schedule.”

“Schedule is the lead; you and I are the follow.”

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On we go, this is still happening. Can't stop won't stop, not allowed to stop because someone will hunt me down and murder me. In a really charming way i'm sure, but nethertheless.


	7. Part Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry fanfic. All lies. SFW. 
> 
> Thank you for reading :)

They go out for drinks as promised.

What hadn’t been in the plan was to go out for drinks in wigs, but when Louis gets an idea in his head then it is very hard for it to be dislodged. And when Harry gets a drink in his system all of Louis' ideas sound like great ideas.

“It’s a disguise, motherfuckahhhs.”

Louis is making friends with some locals in a very Louis sort of way, and Harry tugs on his sleeve, towing Louis away from the group of confused fourteen year old boys.

“Louis, try to not get us involved in gang warfare while we are here.”

“Oh please, oh please, they were just jealous of our wigs.”

“They think we’re drag queens.”

“Best goddamn queens in town. Prettiest. Come on- let’s go find a barmaid who’s into this…”

…

Even when looking like the world’s most beautiful mushroom, Harry Styles’s ability to get free shots out of barmaids remains undiminished.

“No, I definitely think you should give them to us for free. We’ll make you famous. We’re musicians, we’re touring America.”

Louis interjects at this point.

“In wigs.”

“Yeah, in wigs. It’s called… Wigging Out in America.”

The barmaid laughs at Harry, even as Louis grasps his shoulder.

“No it isn’t but it  _ absolutely should _ , what the fuck, why didn’t we suggest that? Harry stop leaving all your best ideas in your brain space.”

Harry waggles his head at Louis, looking  _ ridiculous _ .

“They only come out when I’ve alcoholed… another reason these shots should be free. For the good of the nation, barkeep!”

It’s all about the chase, Louis knows, Harry just wants to see if he can win over the barmaid; at the end Harry will invariably throw more than enough money at the bar to cover the price of the shots. But the barmaid doesn’t know that, and Louis hopes that she’s braced herself for Styles in full flirt mode.

“You wouldn’t look weird even if you had a beard, I think. Also, um. Great decor, in here, you have a real flair for it. So can we have those shots?”

Louis snorts, and then laughs really hard, as the barmaid rolls her eyes, and then slides the shot glasses over to them.

“Harry you charm machine - complimenting her on her interior design skills.”

“It’s a very underrated quality, and one she should be very proud of!”

…

They end up in a booth, where it is a bit darker and a bit more private. Harry’s hands are toying with his phone, with which he has just sent Niall, Liam and Zayn pictures of him and Louis in their stupid as fuck but also perfect wigs.

Louis is looking killer, somehow. How anyone can look as good as that in a wig like that is beyond him, but Harry suddenly wants to be alone with Louis in a way that is not casual, any more, but rather pressing and necessary and needed, if he is ever to get the air back into his lungs.

Louis isn’t in any rush, it would seem, but is instead sipping slowly at his drink, while looking at Harry’s phone, or maybe the way that Harry’s fingers are toying with his phone. He glances up at Harry, from under lowered lids, and smiles quietly, before looking away, in an exaggerated move.

Louis is never usually this quiet, and Harry can’t help but wonder if his mind is too occupied with thinking of other things.

(Things to do with maybe taking Harry back to the hotel and  _ fuck _ taking it slow, really.)

The song changes, and Louis rolls his shoulders suddenly, as if adjusting to the new beat.

“What are you thinking about?”

Harry shrugs, thinking about what a dive this place is and how the drink tastes slightly bitter on his tongue but none of it matters, not really.

“You.”

Louis nods slowly, as if he just been proven right, and then laughs quietly.

“Flirt.”

“Is that a descriptor, or an instruction?”

Louis sits back in the booth, smiling, and then says “Well. Both would be accurate, for right now. Though I’ll know that you are truly serious about your flirt game when you tell me that my eye for interior design is super strong.”

Harry laughs, and then props his chin up on his elbow.

“Or that you’d suit a beard.”

Louis nods, and then shrugs.

“Hell yes I’d rock a beard. Who do you think my beard should be?”

“What, like your pretend boyfriend?  Definitely Niall.”

Louis' laugh is bigger than the joke, and then he points at Harry, squinting suspiciously.

“I thought Niall was your beard?”

Harry shrugs, smiling stupidly because this whole thing is still so stupid.

“Oh, I’m sure he can handle both of us; he’s a capable woman.”

Louis nods, and then reaches for his phone in what looks like a half unconscious gesture. Harry glances at his own, where Liam has messaged back with the phrase  _ blending in with the locals, I see _ . Harry smiles, and Louis clears his throat, after a moment.

“Should we tell them?”

Harry looks up, and waits for a clarification, even though he already knows what Louis is referring to. Louis flicks a finger back and forth between them, saying “about whatever we got going on here.”

Shrugging, Harry says “Probably. As our friends there is probably some kind of really understated and restrained initiation ceremony for us that they have to oversee.”

“I’d be surprised if Zayn hadn’t already figured - I kind of mentioned this to him in a super not subtle way. Though it did seem to go zooming over his head.”

Harry takes another sip of his drink, trying to not seem too into the idea of Louis talking about him to Zayn.

“I said something to Niall too, before we started the show.”

Louis nods, looking at his phone again, and Harry decides that they must know, if they’ve both been dropping hints.

“What would we tell them, if we did call them?”

“That we’re… what? That we’ve made out a few times?”

Harry snorts in response, because that sounds very high school.

“They’re going to be pretty underwhelmed - I think Liam’s made out with  _ Zayn _ , a few times.”

Louis laughs, and then drains his drink. But when he puts the glass back on the table his eyes are suddenly not joking, anymore.

“Want to go see if we can improve our average? We can’t have Niall  _ underwhelmed _ .”

Harry gulps, and then nods several times too many, because yes, he would very much like that.

…

Liam gets a confusing series of messages, about ten minutes after he had replied to Harry about their fashion choices. He spends five minutes of that time wondering what in his household he could fashion into a hilarious wig, but puts the task aside as one requiring effort levels that he is not willing to commit, and besides, this episode of Black Mirror is too good to pause for long.

His phone buzzes on his chest a couple of times, but he ignores it until the fourth buzz, pausing the screen.

Harry -  _ Making out hardly counts as anything, right? _

Harry -  _ Go big or go home. _

Louis -  _ hey crown beard of the flower fairies, Harry says fuck your ceremony. _

Harry -  _ no I do not though there best not be an actual ceremony because then yes I will. _

Liam squints at his screen, and then scrolls up to reread the past conversation, checking if he’s missed something. Nope.

_ What are you two on about? have I missed something? _

Louis-  _ yeah, big time. _

Harry -  _ like, the size of the whole of America. _

_ Whatever guys - have lots of fun for me, okay? Keep sending me pictures. _

Harry -  _ what? _

Louis -  _ I could be into it. _

Hannah laughs, because drunk logic is the worst and both Louis and Harry seem to be suffering.

_ PG Pictures - so I don’t have to be jealous you guys are hanging out so much without us, yeah? _

Louis -  _ oh, I thought you meant something else. Wow, you really did miss it, huh? _

Harry -  _ he’s an innocent flower. _

Liam needs the middle finger emoji in times like this, but improvises around it by just taking a picture of his middle finger, and sending it to them.

Louis - _ too late Liam, hotel is here. save your fingers for someone else. _

Harry -  _ my wig says bye. _

Snorting, Liam rereads the conversation, but the review doesn’t really draw out any meaning, and his sleepy state isn’t helping. And the thing is that he won’t be able to ask Harry or Louis tomorrow, because they won’t remember what they were talking about either.

Oh well. One of life’s great mysteries.

…

They’re in an elevator.

They’re…

Harry’s hands are running up his sides, and Louis has to concentrate on not moaning into the kiss, because they’re in an  _ elevator _ .

They’re in an elevator.

They’re wearing stupid wigs.

They’re kissing hard enough for Louis to forget everything else.

They’re going up.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ship some Larry goddammit!!! Or dont, it's a free country. Unless you are halfway through a story and then your replacement dad is like YOU MUST KEEP WRITING NO MATTER WHAT, and then it isn't a free country. But what the hey, i've been raised well.


	8. Part Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry. All lies. NSFW. Thank you for reading!

**…**

Harry has fucked friends before.

It’s the sort of thing that has happened a few times, because otherwise it would have to be an almost stranger that he invites into his bed, and that is not something that he is ever going to be completely comfortable with.

But this is Louis.

The wigs are gone, thank god. Louis had removed his own, and then pulled Harry’s off with gentle hands, because ‘as cute as Zap is…’

Harry had laughed, because this is Louis, and that is what Harry does when Louis Louies. But then Louis had run his fingers through Harry’s hair, trying to loosen it and let it fall, and that was when Harry had kissed him again, hard enough so that they had both fallen back onto the bed. And that isn’t necessarily what Harry does when Louis Louies, but times be changing.

Harry had never heard Louis moan, up until five minutes ago. It is a new sound and one that pulses hard in his ears, because he knows  _ everything  _ about Louis, and so this new territory is intoxicating and addictive.

Louis had moaned when Harry’s hands had gone to somewhere which is definitely not friendship area, anymore, and Harry’s thought process had gone blurry for a while, as clothes were removed and the kisses became even more distracted.

The alcohol is helping, but isn’t in charge. Louis tastes of tequila shots and lime, and they’ve done other things for the first time when drinking, so why not this?

Why not?

Louis has a hand at the back of his neck, and is kissing him in a really uncertain way, pausing to check every few moments that Harry is still okay. Harry needs some lights out in this room, just because he wants to lose himself in this, and uncertainty isn’t helping.

“Lou… I want you.”

…

Louis isn’t very good at mentally describing something without a side line of humor running throughout it. It’s a bad habit that he is trying to kick.

All jokes goes out of the window when Harry takes off his underwear. Hell, if the window had been open, the underwear might have gone out of the window, too.

_ No _ , dammit. No jokes.

Harry is… relentlessly male. There’s no hiding from the fact that Louis is currently aching, with every fibre of his being, have sex with a male. With his very male, best friend.

All of this comes out of his mouth as “shit Styles, you are fucking beautiful.”

Harry looks like he might roll his eyes, slightly, but he smiles, reaching for Louis and pulling him towards him, until Louis is pretty much on top of him, and thats a lot of  _ boy  _ underneath him, all at once.

Louis kisses him, because Harry is just there, in lots of fluttering quick kisses, across his mouth and his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Harry presses up into him, running his palms across Louis' bare back, and  _ holy hell _ when did this get so sexy?

Louis can still taste the alcohol on his tongue, but it isn’t that which is making him feel so warm.

“Harry? Is this just drunken affection, or…?”

Louis whispers it into his lips, guarding against non-existent eavesdroppers. Harry shakes his head fractionally, and then kisses back.

“No. I want this. Are you? Cause I don’t want this if you-”

“No, I’m- yeah. I want this too.”

Harry blinks at him a couple of times, and then kisses Louis again, but this time moving his hips against Louis in a certain way. Louis moans, automatically, because even though he can’t specifically feel anything yet, just the thought of what he is about to encounter is making him lightheaded.

“We’re doing this in entirely the wrong order - we should date  _ and then _ have sex  _ and then _ slowly realize that we’re best friends.”

Harry laughs breathlessly, and reaches for one of Louis' hands, bringing it to his lips and kissing the tips gently.

“Doing things by the book is boring Louis. Besides, if you think of the tour as one long date then we’re nearly fine.”

Louis chooses to kiss at Harry’s neck, rather than answer, because he just discovered in the elevator that the skin there is unspeakably soft, and Louis just wants to put his mouth all over Harry at this point.

Harry must hear that thought, somehow, because he moans, and the hips are there again. Harry shifts, encouraging Louis' hand to go lower, to where Harry continues to be very naked, and Louis would like to spend a little while there, if he can manage to not pass out, in the mean time.

…

Harry hasn’t the words.

Because there is sex, but there is also intimacy, and Harry isn’t sure he’s ever experienced a moment when both have been so  _ present _ .

Louis has found a steady rhythm, and Harry has his arm around Louis' shoulders, looking up at his face, which is the picture of concentration, watching what his hand is doing to Harry.

Harry can’t believe this is happening, and Louis looks pretty astonished too, but the bit lip suggests that he’s pretty into it.

Louis flicks his wrist, and the sensation is enough to make Harry swear, and  _ this  _ is the pattern of movement that will make him orgasm, he knows.

“Oh  _ fuck _ , Louis, yes.”

Louis looks back at him again, and now he kisses him, at Harry’s lips, and then just Harry’s face, when Harry is too distracted to kiss Louis back properly.

“So sexy baby, you are so…  _ god _ , fuck, you look beautiful.”

Harry has  _ never _ been called baby by Louis before, but it feels so good, and the pet name just seems to wind him higher, somehow, and this is happening very soon, he can tell.

“God, yes, I’m going to-”

The rest of that sentence is lost in a high pitched moan, and Louis is right there with him, instinctively increasing the tempo whilst maintaining the pressure, and thank  _ fuck _ for Louis' fingers, really, because Harry’s entire world is currently comprised of the speed and rhythm of Louis' fingertips.

Louis is muttering more broken words into Harry’s ear now, and Harry vaguely registers that Louis is moving his hips against Harry’s thigh now in a really deliberate way, but that just adds to the overwhelming sensation of  _ fuck _ and  _ yes  _ and  _ now _ .

When Louis moans again in his ear,  _ that’s  _ the trigger, and Harry arches up entirely automatically, because it’s happening and  _ holy fuck god yes. _

_ Louis. _

…

Louis comes about ten seconds after Harry, humping his leg like a teenager on heat, but he feels no shame because he had absolutely no choice in the matter and shame is for things that people choose to do.

Besides, why feel shame for something that is so  _ obviously, obviously  _ good?

Harry recovers first, and is kissing him, kissing Louis like there is nothing else to do, and Louis tries to get his brain in order to respond to the tidal wave of emotion, but he’s pretty scrambled, and still riding out the after shocks.

He instead manages to mumble out the words “So good”, and Harry hums in agreement, stretching out his body slightly, which is Louis' cue to remember that he’s pretty much just collapsed on top of him, and allowing Harry maybe some breathing space wouldn’t necessarily be a bad idea.

When Louis moves away, falling to the mattress on one side next to Harry and sighing, Harry comes chasing after him, nuzzling into the crook of Louis' neck. Louis opens his arms automatically, and Harry is there, letting himself be folded up, and humming quietly.

Louis blinks at the ceiling, and tries to catch up with events. Harry is hot, and heavy, against his ribcage, and Louis can’t help but love the fact that Harry isn’t artificially holding himself tense in order to try and lighten himself, but is instead seems completely relaxed and stated.

There’s a  _ lot  _ of emotion, pulsing in his chest, so Louis makes a joke instead.

“Hate to tell you, but I think we just breached the ‘no touching’ rule in a pretty big way.”

Harry lets out a sleepy sounding laugh, and curls himself even closer into Louis' arms, if that was even possible.

“There are exceptions to every rule…”

Louis smiles quietly, at the idea of being Harry’s exception, and runs idle fingers through Harry’s hair.

“Do you need me to go back to my room? ‘Cause I think we have an early wake up tomorrow…”

Harry grunts, sounding displeased at the notion of a wake up, and then lifts his head, blowing some of his hair out of his face and looking down at Louis.

“No. Stay with me - I’ll sleep better. Unless you want to go?”

Louis shakes his head, thankful that it’s dark, because he suddenly feels really close to tears. Happy tears, but ones that he doesn’t want to have to explain, regardless.

Harry kisses him anyway, because he knows him too well (never enough. never) and drops his head again, running a hand over Louis' stomach with a soft touch, trying to sooth.

“You and me.”

Louis gives him a moment, but when there doesn’t appear to be anything else coming he presses a kiss to Harry’s temple, before breathing him in for a second.

“Yeah. You and me.”

Harry shifts slightly, and reaches upward, kissing just underneath Louis' chin, briefly. Louis smiles.

“I like it.”

A small laugh escapes Harry, and then Louis can tell he is nodding.

“Yeah - me too.”

…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the sex, sorry everyone. Except i'm really not, so whatever.


	9. Part Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larry. All lies. SFW. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> Onwards!

It’s a good morning. One of sleepy kisses and a gradual awareness that nobody seems to be wearing that many clothes, but nobody seems that concerned.

The white sheets are cool against his skin, and Louis stretches contentedly, his arm colliding with Harry, who makes and incomprehensible noise, and then just mumbles ‘no’.

“No to what?”

Harry rolls onto his side to look at Louis, and the rampant bedhead does nothing to detract from the fact that Harry looks close to a hungover angel.

“No to call times and not being allowed to spend the whole day in bed.”

As if on cue, Louis’ snooze alarm goes off for the second time, and Louis switches it off with more finality,. He sits up, and reaches for a stray t-shirt that Harry must have discarded earlier in his stay. He pulls it on, and gets up out of bed, stretching and moving over the the window, pushing the curtain to one side and peeking out.

“Another beautiful day in where-ever the fuck.”

When Louis glances back at Harry, he’s sat up fully in bed, rubbing blearily at his eyes. He notices Louis looks, and smiles shyly.

“Are we okay?

Louis shrugs, casually, and moves around the bed to sit next to him, running a hand through Harry’s crazy hair with a chuckle.

“Yeah - of course?”

How about you - any regrets?”

Harry shakes his head, tucking his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.

“No- only that we didn’t figure it out sooner.”

Louis smiles, and acts on impulse, leaning forward to kiss him. Harry smiles in the kiss, but then removes himself quickly, grinning and covering his mouth.

“I’ll have morning breath.”

Louis laughs, and shakes his head, standing up again.

“Oh please - like we aren’t intimately familiar with each others bad breath and burps and whatever already.”

“Some of us have standards Louis.”

Louis snorts, and the gestures at the bathroom.

“Can I use your shower? We’ve got a flight to catch.”

Harry nods, and then collapses back on to the pillows, letting out a groan.

“I wish America would come to us.”

…

They’re in an elevator.

They’re going down.

Harry smiles to himself, and then glances at Louis, who is leaning on the wall opposite, watching Harry with no shame whatsoever.

“I’m going to start having a pavlovian response to elevators.”

Louis snorts, and shifts his weight on his feet.

“Kinky. I love a good meringue.”

Harry laughs at him, because Louis is such a dumbass sometimes. When he sobers, Louis is smiling at him with his eyes.

“How are we going to do this then?”

Louis shrugs, looking supremely unconcerned.

“Carry on as usual. It clearly doesn’t affect our dynamic. I know you too well, Styles.”

Harry smiles automatically, at a memory.

“You called me baby, last night.”

Louis grins, and looks away, and Harry is gratified to see the start of a blush.

”Well. I could call you that again, tonight, if you like?”

“I would like that.”

Louis smirks at him, probably at how quickly Harry had answered, and then clears his throat.

“I probably won’t call you that  _ on _ camera or on stage, though.”

Harry snorts, and then laughs.

“Okay, fair. Good plan.”

…

It’s easy, Louis finds himself thinking.

They do another two days, of performing and travelling. If the boys notice a difference they haven’t said anything, but Louis is pretty confident that they haven’t, because he and Harry are so tuned in to each other that he isn’t sure that they have the ability to be awkward.

Besides, what is there to be awkward about? They’re into each other. Louis can read Harry like a book, and the reserve will hold just as true. So there will be none of that anxious worrying about who thinks what and miscommunication and all of those things that makes the initial stages of dating  _ so _ tedious. Maybe Louis had thought the uncertainty was fun, when he was younger. Now he  _ absolutely _ cannot be fucked with any of that.

…

They sleep in the same room, now, even though the team continue to pay for a room for each of them. Harry feels a bit guilty for that, but only a bit, as the states slide by.

Besides, there is something a little thrilling (only a little - he is an adult), about pretending to go to bed in his room, waiting half an hour, and then sneaking to Louis' room. Or sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for a quiet knock.

Louis invariably manages to turn up with alcohol of some description, but it more often than not gets ignored. It turns out that the kisses are more intoxicating.

“Where are we now?” Louis asks one evening, curled up in the couch with his arm resting across Harry’s shoulders. Louis has got his neck craned around, trying to look out of the window, at the black night sky, as if hoping for a giant illuminated sign providing the answer. Harry shrugs, because he’s lost track, and cannot summon the mental effort to figure it out.

“Here. You’re here.”

Louis smiles, and then looks back at Harry, glancing at Harry’s lips, and Harry can’t help the way he licks them, in direct response.

“Yeah. With you. I’m here with you.”

Harry nods, murmuring “We’re going to ace that geography exam…”, and then Louis kisses him, soft lips with obvious intentions, and Harry is happy with the lack of mystery.

“Bed?”

“No, here.”

…

Afterwards, Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder, and runs fingertips over Harry’s stomach in a way that would have him flinching away, if he wasn’t the most relaxed that he thinks he’s ever been.

“We get to go home for a couple of days, next.”

Harry nods, because he is looking forward to it.

“Yeah, should be good. I need at least a solid twenty four hours of not being constantly watched, just to let my tolerance recover. And we’ll be over half way through the tour, afterward. Home straight.”

Louis sighs restlessly, and Harry can sense the conflict in it, probably because he’s feels the exact same thing. Namely that on one hand this tour is probably one of the best experiences of his life, but on the other it is  _ exhausting _ , meeting new people and new places and just so much alien and strange, all at once. Harry feels certain that he would have had a nervous breakdown, if he hadn’t been doing it all with Louis. Louis seems to be tracking his thought pattern, because he answers entirely on topic.

“This has been more fun than I expected, though. And I was expecting good things from the get go.”

Harry nods, smiling, and picks up a lock of Louis' hair, toying at it with idle fingers.

“There have definitely been more orgasms that I anticipated. Or packed for.”

Louis laughs quietly, and presses a kiss to Harry’s skin, just above where his heart beats, steady.

“Do you think it’ll still be like this when we’re at home? When the tour is over and we aren’t absorbing landmarks at the speed of light?”

Harry doesn’t ask what ‘it’ is, because he already knows what Louis is asking, has already turned the question over in his head a number of times. He always comes to the same conclusion.

“Oh, I think so. It was like this before the tour started, really. We just hadn’t got to this stage yet, so…”

Louis grunts out what sounds like an agreement, and then lifts himself up, leaning over Harry while looking so, so happy. He smiles, before kissing Harry.

“Case closed.”  

…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way this is nearly finished now.


	10. Part Ten (The End)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This needed wrapping up.
> 
> Larry fic. All lies. SFW. 
> 
> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> …

The states rattle by, and everything seems to speed up, somehow. All Louis knows, is that he is a) tired, b) lost, and c) suddenly a homo.

It’s not a thought that he’s particularly lingers on, because these things just happen, really. It’s hardly as though he has this super conservative and orthodox lifestyle which is going to be rocked to the core. Louis is not particularly into labels, and so is happy to simply call himself ‘the person that Harry Styles is inviting into his bed at night’.

It isn’t a terrible position.

The final show is due to be LA, the night before they fly in, he and Harry are having a quiet drink in the hotel bar, with Louis somewhat preoccupied with trying to inspect the bruise on his back delivered by a treacherous Segway which he hopes has since been exorcised.  

“Harry, you’re sure I don’t need to go to hospital?”

After sipping his drink, Harry shakes his head, smiling.

“Yes. The main damage has been to your pride, I think.”

“I can’t wait to show Niall, i bet he’d be impressed.”

Harry nods firmly in agreement, and then sobers slightly.

“We should probably tell him and the others about this, no? They are our friends?”

He flicks a finger between himself and Louis, and Louis shrugs, because sure, why not?

“Yeah - I don’t much fancy trying to keep things a secret. Though maybe we don’t do it on an interview or anything, because…”

“Because both Niall, Liam, Zayn and our weird corner of the internet would implode at the same time, and we don’t want that on our conscience?”

Louis raises his glass to that.

“You read my mind.”

…

Harry doesn’t  _ think _ it is possible for Zayn to have gotten smaller, so he puts it down to his imagination.

Louis yells with happiness when Zayn knocks twice and then comes bouncing into the room, and Harry submits to the usual stuttering attempt to pick him up that is Zayn’s way of saying hello with a smile on his face.

They film an interview, and there’s a casual, easy kind of atmosphere, because Zayn doesn’t know yet but seeing as nothing seems to have changed between Harry and Louis barring the fact that they now give each other orgasms, it doesn’t feel like there is a big secret hanging over them.

When the lights get shut away, and the camera gets turned off, Harry automatically starts to flex his fingers, in an automatic attempt at calming himself. Louis catches the motion, reaching over for Harry’s right hand and wiggling it about, in a matter of fact sort of way, before standing and stretching.

“Zayn, do you want to go get a drink?”

Shrugging, Zayn shakes his head, and then checks his phone.

“Nah - I should probably be going… also, I thought you two were doing your last day of interviews tomorrow? Harry, I can give you a ride back, if you need it?”

Harry shakes his head automatically, and then looks to Louis for support. Louis smiles at him, and then answers for him.

“Harry is staying with me tonight.”

Zayn nods, still focused on his phone.

“Yeah… for carpooling tomorrow? That makes sense.”

Louis blinks a couple of times, and Harry can tell that he is currently trying to think of a way to subtly imply the changed nature of their relationship, but subtle sometimes doesn’t work on Zayn. So he provides the answer instead.

“We’re also sleeping together, Zayn.”

Zayn nods vaguely, thumbs tapping away on his phone rapidly, but then they slow, and then they stop, and then he looks up, frowning.

“What?”

Louis shrugs, and repeats the statement.

“We’ve been sleeping together.”

Zayn blinks a couple of times, as though rearranging the universe in his head.

“What, like- sex? You two?”

Harry nods, making an effort to not look at Louis, because if he does Harry knows he will start laughing, and he doesn’t want Zayn to think he’s being pranked.

“Yeah.”

Zayn looks between the two of them, waiting to see if they’re about to reveal this as a poor joke, and when they don’t, his eyebrows raise.

“Wait… you figured it out without consulting me?”

There’s a half smile on Zayn’s face, and Harry grins in response.

“Yeah - turns out it isn’t rocket science.”

Louis snorts, and then mumbles “NASA has been having a great time on the tax payers dollar if is rocket science.”

Harry blushes automatically, and it is probably the blush which finally convinces Zayn.

“Wow, you two…um. Well done?”

Zayn looks as though he’s trying to formulate a better sentence, and Louis shrugs, waving away any sudden announcements of sincerity that Zayn wants to come out with.

“We’re just… it’s still pretty young Zaynie, we just didn’t want to hide it from you or the others.”

Harry nods in agreement, glancing once at Louis, grateful that he’s making it so easy, even though…

“Well, cool - that’s… I mean, I had a suspicion, but I’m glad you guys managed to…”

Zayn trails off, and finishes sentence with a hand gesture that Harry doesn’t really want to try and translate, but Louis must make a good attempt at it, because he laughs and waves Zayn away from him, pointing at the door.

“Go on, get out of here. Thank you for not freaking out in front of us.”

Zayn grins, and waves at both of them, before gesturing over his shoulder towards the outside.

“I’ll do that in my car, shall I? You guys need to prepare for tomorrow, and  _ stuff _ .”

Zayn waggles his eyebrows on the ‘stuff’, and Harry resigns himself to a lot of that. Unfortunately there’s nothing suitable to hand that Harry can throw at Zayn’s head, and Harry thinks that if he throws Louis’ then he probably wouldn’t win that test of loyalties.

…

There’s a weird kind of melancholy, when they wave goodbye to their crew for the last time, after a final evening drinks session on the last day. Of course, Louis reminds himself, they’ll almost certainly see everyone again, but this was the last time with everyone all together.

That how it goes though, he decides, as Harry gets into the passenger seat, and Louis turns his ignition. That’s the difference between  _ professional _ friendships, and friendships.  _ Professional _ relationships, and relationships. One lasts as long as the job lasts, with a fond farewell at the end. The other one just  _ lasts _ .

The sun is setting, creeping towards the horizon, swelling as it leaves the day. Louis sneaks a look at Harry, who is looking golden, like one of those pictures that don’t look real, photoshopped and filtered and edited into perfection. Harry glances back at him after a moment, and there’s a smile there.

“Hey.”

“Baby.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him, in a definite refusal to smile, and then tips his head back, breathing out a sigh.

“Lou?”

Louis nods, indicating that he’s listening, though he keeps his eyes on the road ahead.

“Do you think we’ll be okay- it wasn’t just some strange reality we fell into while we were touring? Do you think we’ll be okay now that everything is back to normal?”

Louis struggles not to smile with a strange sort of pride, because he has known that Harry has been turning this question over in his mind all day, and any time that Harry manages to be honest with his emotions is a cause for minor celebration.

“Do you want us to be okay?”

Harry glances at Louis, and then smiles, and even though Louis isn’t looking he’d bet half his house that Harry is blushing.

“Well, um, yeah, you know, everything is really good, I think. I’ve been enjoying what we do together.”

Louis snorts at the coy descriptor, because what they do together seems to be ‘everything exactly as it was, but we sleep in the same bed, and fuck on the regular’. He’s not going to say that though, because this is a serious conversation. Instead Louis focuses on what he thinks is the obvious point.

“What do you mean - ‘back to normal’?”

Harry shrugs, and gestures out of the window.

“You know - back home. Not living a weird half life when we never have any idea of where we are and what we are doing.”

Louis laughs, because that does sound familiar, but then uses the opportunity of a red light to lean across to Harry, kissing him softly on the cheek with a smile.

“Okay, so I don’t know when your life last felt normal, but I’m going to say it was something like 2010 for me.”

Harry hums in agreement, and then giggles abruptly, as he sees Louis' point.

“Yeah, okay, true - nothing is normal, any more.”

The sun has nearly disappeared, and this is now the evening, now nearly the night. Time moves forward. It doesn’t feel scary.

“I think we’ll be fine, you and I; in this non-normal existence.”

Harry tips his head back, and gentle fingers come reaching over to Louis' face, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

“I’m quite into the not normal, it turns out.”

“Good, because I can promise you almost no normal whatsoever.”

Harry laughs at that, and then smiles at the road ahead.

“I can’t wait.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
